


Ode to Divorce

by EliDeetz



Series: Ode to Divorce - Series [1]
Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Inspired by a Regina Spektor song, Ransom Drysdale Being an Asshole, songfic sort of, that's it that's the whole fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25977982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliDeetz/pseuds/EliDeetz
Summary: The ambience in the small shop is calm. The place is practically empty, except for her and a couple of baristas sitting on the corner far away from her. No one has bothered to walk by and wonder if she needs anything, which gives her time to reflect on everything going on inside her mind. It was one of the reasons she chose that place.
Relationships: Ransom Drysdale & Reader, Ransom Drysdale & You, Ransom Drysdale/Original Female Character(s), Ransom Drysdale/Reader, Ransom Drysdale/You
Series: Ode to Divorce - Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1888285
Comments: 12
Kudos: 37





	Ode to Divorce

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, here’s a fic that I managed to write yesterday and actually finish it for the first time in a year in a half. It’s not a lot but I hope you all like it. Feedback is appreciated and honestly, I already have ideas for more parts but we’ll see how this one goes.
> 
> Heavily inspired by the song Ode to Divorce by Regina Spektor.
> 
> Enjoy!

The ambience in the small shop is calm. The place is practically empty, except for her and a couple of baristas sitting on the corner far away from her. No one has bothered to walk by and wonder if she needs anything, which gives her time to reflect on everything going on inside her mind. It was one of the reasons she chose that place. 

She sits alone, the steaming cup of tea in her hands the only sensation grounding her to the present moment. The delicately decorated piece of cake she’d ordered remains untouched, she really doesn’t know why she bought it at all. One day, food was suddenly tasteless to her, so she focuses on simply eating what’s healthy and necessary for her body to properly function. 

Cake isn’t either of those things.

But it was pretty looking, and she had found herself smiling ever so slightly at the sight of it when it caught her eye. Not that it matters now, since her eyes are lost somewhere on the hardwood floor, completely unfocused.

She’d stopped staring at the entrance of the shop long ago. Time passed but she isn’t aware of it, she just knows because of the couple of customers that had come and gone since she arrived. She thinks about pulling out her phone to check the hour and perhaps for any messages or lost calls. But there isn’t any and she knows it, so she doesn’t.

He’s late, of that she’s certain _. _

There was a time she loved him so much she’d learned not to care about it. He would either show up to her place a couple minutes late, or arrive to dinner up to 3 hours after the time he said he would. But he always came home, and that’s what mattered to her.

But that was _ then _ . 

_ Now _ it annoys the shit out of her. Does he think she doesn’t have a fucking life outside of this? Then again, considering how much she is fighting it and all the time she’s putting into it, he probably thinks so. She can’t really blame him, can she?

Still, she knows that isn’t the reason he’s late, he’s just an asshole. Always has been.

Matter of fact, Ransom is his own special type of asshole. Unique, unparalleled, mesmerizing. She wonders if that had been one of the reasons why she’d agreed to marry him.

The bell hanging from the entrance door suddenly rings, and something inside her forces her to look up. Ransom walks in like he owns the place, shaking raindrops off his expensive and worn out coat, and passing a hand over his hair to fix a couple of stray hairs. 

All of her thoughts instantly dissipate, leaving only a dark fog clouding her senses even worse than a moment before.

He scans the establishment slowly, as if he’s there looking for nothing but a cup of coffee, and not actually meeting someone else to take care of an important matter. 

When his icy blue eyes finally meet hers she freezes, cupping the mug to find some comfort in its warmth.

One of Ransom’s perfectly combed brows raises, a sign that he’s aware of her presence. But instead of walking to the table where she’s at, he goes straight to the counter and takes his sweet time to make an order.

Suddenly her entire body is filled with a warmth she doesn’t quite enjoy, as her blood begins to slowly, yet surely, boil through her veins. He knows exactly which buttons to press, what bothers her the most and drives her to the edge without even needing to say a word.

A couple of smiles, and way over the top chuckles with the cashier taking his order, later, he finally walks over to her, a smirk on his face and brows raising in a mocking manner when she doesn’t smile back at him.

“Nice to see you, babe. How you been? Miss me?” Sarcasm drips from every word, as he takes his seat across from her in the small table.

“You’re late,” she quickly says, lowering her eyes to inspect the rim of her cup instead of the details of his face.

“Yeah, missed you too. Been a busy week,” he shrugs, elbows resting on the table as he reaches for the piece of cake left behind. He dips one finger into the lavender buttercream flower on top of it, and licks it clean as his eyes remain focused on her. 

She tries to come up with something to say, but her heart is divided between matching his sarcasm and actually being sincere. So she just sits in silence, refusing to look into his eyes. He sighs heavily as he leans back, jaw clenching as his sight finally moves from her to the server approaching them.

“Here’s your peppermint tea,” her tone is sweet, kind and almost flirtatious. They're too much compared to the silence she got when they gave her her order. “If you need anything else you let me now.” Her words are just for him.

She focuses on his choice of drink silently, milk and probably honey or agave in it.  _ ‘That shit smells like toothpaste, get it away from me.”  _ He’d said the very first time she poured herself a cup while watching a movie together.  _ ‘And who the fuck puts milk on tea?’ _

A couple of months into their relationship he would buy his very own jar full of loose peppermint tea, fancy and expensive, like everything in his house. A jar she would constantly refill once they moved in together. She always thought he’d bought it for her, but apparently her taste had grown on him more than she'd noticed.

It’s not until he takes a sip of it that she remembers where they are, and why. Ransom makes that face she likes when he tastes something minty; his brows furrow as he tightens his lips, licking them after swallowing.

“So, what is it you need?” He asks nonchalantly, blue eyes raising up to look at her again.

“Ransom, you know why I called you here.” The woman finally snaps, pushing her cup aside and reaching down to her purse, pulling out the manila folder she’s been carrying around for weeks and placing it on top of the table.

“You really that eager to get this over with?” His question feels loaded as every emotion leaves his face, it makes her hesitate for a moment.

“I tried to get it delivered to you but you’re never home,” she simply says, finding strength in her hurt and anger to finally meet him in the eye. “And I’ve been sitting here for over an hour wondering if you’d show up at all, so forgive me if I don’t feel like  _ catching up  _ right now.”

“I haven’t heard from you in weeks other than when you send your lawyer after me, I deserve more than that. You’re still my wife.” He’s quick to say, momentarily losing his careless nature as he moves closer to her, tapping the table with two fingers, a knee-jerk reaction he often did when anger got the best of him.

It takes her aback, not really noticing until then just how annoyed at this situation he seems to be. But so is she.

“Well, you got what you wanted, as you always do. I’m here, I’m great, these past weeks have been nothing but fun considering all the extra work you’ve put me through with this divorce. Now sign the papers, Ransom.” The words flow out of her like vomit, she doesn’t want to be like this but she can’t help it.

“You’re the one who wants half my shit, and the house. You think I’m just gonna say yes, sit back and let you take what’s mine?” He crosses his arms across his chest, the holes in the sweater he’s wearing stretching out.

“It’s not yours Ransom, it’s your grandfather’s.” She says offhandedly, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her now lukewarm tea.

It’s weird and probably messed up, but falling back into that well known hostility as they fight makes her feel more confident. Now she knows what Linda meant when she talked about her own divorce with Ransom’s dad for over two hours at the last family reunion.

“And that makes it all better,” he scoffs, an unwanted smirk painting across his features.

“You’re acting like you’re gonna end up homeless and starving, it’s ridiculous.”

“ _ You’re _ ridiculous.” His childish tone and posture almost makes her laugh, but she bites her tongue and keeps avoiding his eyes. She won’t allow herself to show weakness around him, not anymore.

Silence settles between them. Ransom is right, she doesn’t need the money, she doesn’t even care about it, because all she ever wanted was him. But the thought of living in the house they once planned the rest of their lives in is too painful, and so is the idea of letting him keep it to plan a new one with someone else.

She thinks that maybe, just maybe, if she takes as much as she can he will always think of her, like she’s certain she’s going to with him. He doesn’t know the impact he made on her life, how much of him is still settled inside her heart, nor how much of it will be gone when he is.

It’s been a painful process but she needs it to be over. Or the pain never will.

“Ransom, just sign the damn papers, I have somewhere to be.” It’s a lie, but she’s hoping it will be enough to inspire him to do her one last favor. The concept of it leaves a bitter taste on her mouth. 

There’s a light on his eyes that wasn’t there before, and she knows she fucked up. A shit eating grin pulls his lips, as he once more leans back to make himself comfortable in his seat.

“Date?” He quietly asks, clenching the fist that’s resting over his leg, presuming it’s out of her sight. “I never would’ve pegged you for the greedy  _ and _ slutty type. Yet, here we are.”

Her jaw clenches at his words, feeling her eyes suddenly prickling with unshed tears. She knows what he’s doing, thinking if she does have a date then he can efficiently ruin it before it even happens.

“What’s it to you?” She can’t help the way her voice trembles, so anything else she wants to say dies in her throat.

“Just realizing what’s the fucking rush with this. Need some cash for a new dress to show off to your new boy toy? Shoes? Some makeup? All you had to do is ask,” he spats bitterly, that cruel smile still painted over his features as he takes out his wallet to pull out a couple of hundreds, throwing them across the table. “There you go, no need to sell _ our _ fucking house, I’m not letting you have it so you can walk around looking like an expensive slut. And you sure as hell are not gonna get it to fuck some guy so his cheap ass doesn’t have to pay for a motel.”

“There’s no guy! Never has been,”  _ and never will be.  _ She stops herself again, knowing she will start crying at any moment if she doesn’t calm down. “It’s not about the house.”  _ Not _ **_just_ ** _ about the house. _

“Then why the fuck are we here?!”

“Because all you have to do is sign these fucking papers and let me go, but you won’t. Because we had an agreement, it’s on the prenup that  _ you _ made me sign, and then  _ you _ decided to fight. Because your lawyer and mine finally settled on something that could’ve been over  _ months _ ago but  _ no _ , you  _ had _ to drag it on --” 

“Because I don’t want you out of my life so fast!” 

Half the silverware on the table falls to the floor and the ceramic plate and cups rattle when Ransom lets down his fists against the table. The chatty baristas turn towards them, as well as the flirty one, startled and curious about why the handsome client raised his voice.

She’s speechless, mouth hanging open and eyes unable to move away from him as he visibly deflates, his face down and hands still clenched fists over the table. His shoulders drop as he breathes rhythmically, presumably trying to compose himself.

Her mind races, a lot of things since their separation fall right into place at this revelation. His shitty attitude and demands to do everything face to face suddenly make a lot of sense. Childish, yes, but then again the only way she’d seen him act when he didn’t get what he wanted but didn’t want to ask for it directly.

A pout on his lips when he wanted a kiss, sitting in the middle of the couch or bed to take the majority of it when he wanted her to cuddle with him, a soft, harmless flick on the back of her hand when he wanted to hold it. Countless screaming matches with Walt when he wasn’t accepting of their relationship, days and weeks without talking to Linda when he accomplished something and her response wasn’t verbatim of what he expected

A long, drawn out, painful divorce, too many unnecessary meetings getting them nowhere, headaches to everyone involved, and even him changing lawyers more than once. All of it a desperate way of keeping her close no matter how, a way of asking _ please, don’t leave me. _

There is a knot on her throat that won’t allow her to speak up. The dark fog in her mind vanishes, as she tries to regain control of her body, her delicate hand moves slowly and hovers over his in a possible attempt to give him the comfort she’s missed since they split.

She doesn’t need the money, the house, nor his signature on those meaningless papers. They now feel like a rash decision, a mistake. They don’t need to have a divorce. 

She just needs him.

The doorbell rings again, Ransom’s posture immediately stiffens at her touch, causing her hand to retreat and find its spot holding the cold cup. A young woman walks in, looking around the place, the fake coloured contacts on her eyes shine and she smiles as she seems to find what she’s looking for.

“Ran!” Her voice is high pitched and immediately annoying, she’s wearing a huge white coat, partially covering the sparkly silver dress she’s wearing.

Ransom jumps on his seat, startled, confused. He turns to see her once she stands next to him, his already pale face draining of whatever color was left in it as she leans in and places a glossy kiss right on his lips.

“I knew you’d be here, I saw your car parked outside,” she giggles, placing her arms around his neck and attempting to sit on his lap without caring he happens to have company.

“ _ Don’t _ ,” he hisses, standing up and removing her hands from him. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He asks quietly, brows knitting as his focus moves from the girl to his wife, frozen in spot and processing the scene in front of her.

“I’ve been hoping to run into you everywhere, you never called me. You just left me in that stupid hotel --” 

“I didn’t call you because I didn’t want to.” There’s venom in his voice as he interrupts whatever else she was going to say, hoping to hurt her and stop her yapping.

“That’s how you wanna play? Acting like you weren’t the one after me at first.” The girl giggles, rolling her eyes and daring to involve the other woman into it. “Can you believe this dick?” She asks playfully, clearly unbeknown to what’s going on right now.

Ransom’s blue eyes nearly pop out of their sockets, his neck and face turn red in anger. He doesn’t know what to do, or say, too busy trying to keep himself from choking this girl in the middle of the coffee shop.

“I can, actually.”

All the malicious thoughts running through his brain suddenly stop, and he nearly pulls a muscle because of how fast he turns to look at her when she finally speaks up. He stands in shock, still holding the other girl’s wrists as his wife fumbles with the manila folder, pulling out the divorce papers, and placing a pen over them with a force he hadn’t seen her use before.  _ Ever _ .

“Sign  _ right now _ or you’ll never hear from me again. And next time you see these, I’ll be fighting you for the fucking bimmer too, asshole.”

There’s tears running down her face, but she doesn’t care anymore. Whatever hope was left of this becoming nothing but a bad memory overcomed by better ones, is gone. She was an idiot not to think Ransom wouldn't sleep around as soon as he had a chance. That if he didn’t do it when they were still together.

“Wait, no.  _ Please _ …” Ransom sounds out of air, like he’s going to start having a panic attack any time soon. The other girl is long forgotten, an appalled look on her face as she walks away and heads towards the counter. “Please, don’t do this.”

He’s begging, for a moment, for a word, for another chance. But she’s hurt, she can’t even think about him touching someone else without wanting to throw up, knowing she needs to get out of there before she does or throws the nearest ceramic dish straight to his face.

“Ransom.” Her tone is almost scary, making his name sound like an insult as it leaves her lips. “I’m warning you. You’ll die wondering where I went, I swear to God.”

He exhales heavily through his nostrils, shaking as he finally sits back down and grabs the pen with trembling fingers. His signature is shaky, and he feels his entire body go rigid as his eyes lose focus. 

“Goodbye, Ransom.” It’s not until she rips the document from under his hands that he regains control.

“Wait, wait!” He manages to get a hold of her hand before she can walk out the door, his grip it’s delicate and almost tender. Like a request rather than a demand. “Please don’t disappear, I’ll do whatever you want… just,  _ please _ .”

She turns to look at him, momentarily enthralled by the unshed tears in his eyes. “I won’t, but _ I’ll  _ reach out when I’m ready.”

He nods, letting his hand fall to his side, feeling a sudden wave of relief travel through his every nerve. “Whatever you want,” he simply repeats, sniffling and rubbing one of his eyes violently to keep the tears from falling.

His eyes focus on the hardwood floor, jaw tight and chest aching as he hears the bell ring again announcing her departure. 

After a moment, he looks around the establishment, noticing not so discreet looks focused on him, and the space around him. He gathers the couple hundreds he previously threw over the table and folds them under his cold cup of peppermint tea. 

Ransom shoves his hands in his pockets and straightens as much as he can, ignoring the way his eyes burn and the rest of his body begs for comfort in the form of her warmth. A warmth he stupidly tried to find in someone else, but bailed on as soon as they got the keys to the room.

It’d been a mistake to even consider it, he should’ve known what mistakes usually cost him. He’s losing, he hasn’t stopped doing so since they fell apart. 

He leaves the coffee shop, and enters his car, wondering if it’d been worth it to let her fight him for it, but then panics at the thought of her vanishing like she said she would. Ransom wonders if she’ll ever reach out, but for once, the uncertainty is better than knowing for sure that she won’t. 

A thousand possibilities haunt him as he drives away, no clear destination in mind. 


End file.
